Never Grow Up
by Music-Is-Life-88
Summary: "We never even got to find out if it was a boy or a girl" Mark/OC, Oneshot.


Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple  
>No one's ever burned you; nothing's ever left you scarred<br>And even though you want to, just try to never grow up

She was sitting against the giant windows on the far wall, one open and letting the harsh winter breeze burn her skin, but she felt nothing. The light from moon paled her tear stained face more. She rested her cheek against the glass pane and looked out, seeing the dark and dangerous world outside; drunk men staggering around, a prostitute working the corner, and 'The Man' across the street, almost beckoning her to leave the shabby apartment she's called home for years and ruin her life, and she'd do it in a heartbeat.

A heartbeat.

One.

One heartbeat, hers, when there should be two.

All she wore was a spaghetti strap shirt and shorts in their heatless loft, her skin covered in goose bumps and the tears on her face turned to ice. Her toes, which were under the open window, had turned blue. With one hand she tugged on a strand of blonde hair while the other rested gently on her stomach, rubbing it and hushing, whispering a soft French lullaby.

It was there, she could feel it still, kicking inside her, screaming for its mommy to feed it, talk to it, let it grow up.

But she couldn't, and what kind of mother did that make her?

_She closed her eyes and saw her baby, in its nice, sturdy crib in a room painted bright yellow, but not the loft; they were somewhere else, safe and normal, the suburbs. She laughed, a few years ago she'd never live there, but she would, she would for her baby. Her baby's eyelids fluttered as it dreamed sweet dreams about rainbows and sunshine and dancing. Her baby would be a dancer, the legs it had kicking around. She kept watching her sleeping baby, resting her head perfectly in the crook of her husband`s neck._

It wasn`t like that anymore, her head didn`t fit in her husband`s neck anymore, not perfectly anyways. She wanted it to, so bad. She couldn`t lose that too.

_Now she held it, the baby fitting perfectly in her arms and giggling. She wiggled a finger in front of its face and it grabbed it. Its little hand could wrap around one of her fingers. The baby continued to giggle and drool a bit; she smiled proudly wiping it away and continuing to shower her baby with love and affection._

A car honked outside, and there was shouting; it made her frown. There were better things to do than yell at other people, others that need _love_ not hate. Of course, she was alone. Alone in a dark cold room and she couldn`t move, couldn`t go outside again. She used to go to the park all the time, but all she could see, and all she _will_ see, are little children running and playing, babies in strollers, moms gossiping on park benches and pointing out their kids proudly.

_Autumn, it`s her favourite season and her husband's. He said the way the different coloured leaves dance their way down to the ground was beautiful, and that nature made the best special effects. Now she was on the park bench with a few other moms, and they were congratulating her on her adorable child and loving husband, she nodded and smiled modestly, but on the inside she thought 'I know'. She watched her baby run around the trees with its dad following behind, chasing it with his camera._

She'd never get to do that now, and neither would he. She looked at her stomach and began to singing quiet as the wind. "Oh darlin' don't you ever grow up…"

She heard the door to the loft open, but didn't move, she barely kept breathing. "Cally?" she heard the sweet voice of her husband, but she didn't look up still. "Calandra…" his sweet voice turned desperate and she looked at him, it hurt even more. His face was hurt and scared, his eyes locked on her protectively. Would their baby have looked like him? Would it have had its father's beautiful blue eyes, his dirty blonde hair? Or its mother's platinum blonde locks, or maybe her sea green eyes. He looked at her feet and gasped, running to close the window. "Christ Cally… what are you doing? Coming on, let's go to bed." He put her arm around her and tried to help her up, but she rejected him and stood herself. She saw her friends, all sad and pitying. Joanne was holding her life partner Maureen back from her attempts to comfort the shell of her friend. Collins and Angel stood behind them, Angel almost crying at the pitiful sight. Roger and Mimi each held the shoulder of their son, who had Roger's hair and Mimi's complexion.

Calandra looked at him and walked towards him, kneeling in front of him. "When you're going to the movies to meet some friend, don't make your parents drop you off around the block, remember that their… getting older too." She started to tear up again and sob quietly in her hands.

"Umm, ok…" the boy responded unsure, looking to his parents for guidance.

Roger spoke up. "Umm, we're going downstairs, catch you later man. Goodnight Cally." He led everyone in the hall down to Roger and Mimi's apartment.

Mark picked his wife up bridal style and laid with her on the bed, rubbing her arm soothingly, letting her cry for their unborn child. After a fews hours of weeping into the wee hours of the night, she got up and turned off the lights. Before going back into bed though, she when into a box of what would have been baby items and pulled out something. She put it on her nightstand and plugged it in, the little sheep nightlight coming to life. She crawled into bed with her husband, back facing him. She didn't want to hurt him, but it was hard to look at him. Instead, she looked at the lamp, and though about if her baby would have liked it, and it would have liked writing or filming, or something else. Finally she actually turned herself over and looked him in the eyes for the first time since the incident, and spoke her first words to him, deciding it's been long enough just thinking to herself.

"We never even got to know if it was a boy or a girl."

So here I am in my new apartment  
>In a big city, they just dropped me off<br>It's so much colder that I thought it would be  
>So I tuck myself in and turn my night light on<p>

**A/N: So, I've had the idea of using Taylor Swift's beautiful song of a parent and child in this context and I'm rather proud! Also sort of a promo for a story I may start with Mark/Oc (Calandra) if I get enough positive feedback. Just to clarify, italics show the fantasies of what she thought life would have been like with her unborn child. Also, not how she always refers to the baby as 'it' and it had a yellow bedroom, not blue for a boy or pink for a girl, and she expresses the hurt of **_**that specifically**_** at the end, mostly because it's making creating her fantasies difficult. Review please!**


End file.
